I Hope You Dance
by Jeanie-luvs
Summary: I once heard that when someone runs away, it's to see if anyone cares enought to follow." Harry has run for a long time and has finally come to a decision. Major Character death: don't read if it bothers you. Song-Fic. Depressingg, you have been warned


A/N: Rewritten. Its sad and depressing, guys, just a warning! If you want the full experience, listen to I Hope You Dance by Lee Ann Womack. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own any J.K Rowling stuff and i make no profit from this. The song, I hope you dance, belongs to Lee Ann Womack.

_I hope you never lose your sense of wonder…_

The bathroom was just big enough to hold a toilet, a double sink and a large tub. Deep red rugs and black items decorated the room. It was actually quite suiting for his purpose. The Dursleys master bathroom would be excellent for his purpose, though they had long since abandoned the building. He'd purchased the disgusting place for one reason, and for nothing else. He had thought it a great irony to make use of such a hated memory. A young man with feral black hair and eyes as green as fresh grass stood in front of a large mirror, examining himself and making preparations.

Harry smiled as the song played on the radio in his bathroom, mouthing the words as along as she sang. He really loved this song, because it always made him feel special, like she was singing to him. She wasn't of course, and remembering this made him fall heavily back to the darkness of earth. His skinny shoulders drooped and a small sigh escaped. He covered his mouth and glanced anxiously at the door.

Those first words made him remember the first time he'd experienced magic. The first good time, that was. Hagrid, a giant of man in all sense, had been so angry in his defense; Harry had never had anyone in his corner before. It had been a nice feeling. And the first of many trips through the wizarding shops. Of course, his first year had set the pace for all years to follow. Had there even been a year in which he hadn't been nearly killed, through someone's stupidity? Back then, he'd partially blamed the teachers for not noticing.

He checked the door was locked; he had even managed to place quite a few heavy objects on the door. He turned the crystalline knobs that would control the water temperature in the bath, making sure it only reached a cozy warmth. It would be awhile before anyone noticed.

Because no one ever noticed.

…_You get your fill to eat,_

_But always keep that hunger._

_May you never take one breath for granted…_

He nearly snorted at that line but managed to keep it in. He was not one to take anything for granted. And he'd only had his fill at Hogwarts, whenever he was invited to the Weasleys was just a bonus. Growing up with the Dursleys had taught him to be grateful..._I guess I should be grateful to them for that, _He thought twistedly. Green eyes looked themselves in the mirror and he noted the especially dulled reality in them. A smile flitted through his face, almost too quick to be identified. But he recognized it for what it was. It appeared often now, that sad smile of hate. _May you never take one single breath for granted…_ He repeated that line in his head, pleased that it was so ironic. That single breath he would never again take for granted was closer than it seemed.

_...God forbid love ever leaves you empty handed_

_I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean_

_Whenever one door closes, I hope another opens…_

Love had never left him; it would have had to have been there for him in the first place. Everyone believed that it was Lilly Potter's love that saved him that dark, faithful night. They couldn't have been more wrong. It was Voldemort's own dumb luck that a prophecy had deemed him the unlucky one. Neville could wish he was Harry all he'd like; Harry would've given him the damn fame. Harry would have given it to anyone. But he was cursed at birth and nothing, especially wishing for a different past, was going to change his present. He glanced at the bathtub. It was slowly filling with hot water. Soon it would be full.

Soon, another door would open for him.

…_Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,_

_And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance…_

_I hope you dance…I hope you dance…_

This reminded him of the first time he'd met Dumbledore. The first glimpse of the old man had given him a special feeling. He wasn't quite sure what to compare it to, but Harry believed it was a feeling of welcome. Yes, that was it. Those twinkling eyes had landed on him and the warmth of welcome had spread throughout his body. Dumbledore had inspired welcome and faith wherever he went, be it in life or death. He closed his eyes as those moments of Dumbledore's death and funeral flashed in his head. A tear fell down his cheek and he ran a finger down the trail, mystified. Sadness kept him constant company now that Dumbledore, and his faith, had died. But rarely had he shed a tear. The finality of the moment, or perhaps his own heightened feelings, whatever it was, could be the culprit.

Oh his faith had fought, and fought hard to stay alive. When all others had long given up, Harry had remained faithful in Dumbledore's words. But now, Tom was dead, and what was there to have faith in? Plenty of people had faith in him, they said. He was the Boy Who Lived. But what about Harry? What was Harry to believe in? If he had been given this question these last few days, he would not have had an answer. Then again, who was going to ask him that question?

_Maybe that was being a tad bit mean_, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. Harry mentally shrugged it off. They all had their chances; just as they all had failed.

Strangely though, it also reminded him of Snape. The greasy potions master had been one character he would never forget. As cutting as his name implied, Severus had never been kind. In fact, Harry thought, he was the one teacher he could count on to remain the same, no matter what was going on. It had earned him Harry's respect, but at a high cost. Had Snape been alive today, Harry was sure the he would be happ-no, snarkily making potions and scaring children. Or even retired, with just himself and his profession in some far off place. Snape had really been a sense of 'constant' in a world where things were never the same. Had they liked each other at all, Harry might've even said he missed the man.

…_I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,_

_Never settle for the path of least resistance._

_Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin'_

_Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth takin'..._

Real happiness shone in his face as he considered those lines. Never, even now, had he feared the 'mountains' in the distance, be it miles or years. How many times had he charged head into a situation, not even bothered by the things crawling from the path ahead? And oh-ho, stubborn-as-a-mule- Harry most definitely had not taken the path of least resistance. Actually, he could recount several times in his life when going along with everyone would have made his life easier. Including those times with Ginny. She was one of those reasons to take a chance and to survive the war, the love that could be a mistake but was worth taking. A wry grin passed. Those times when Ginny had dated other boys had been his first clue to the world of love. Not like with Cho. She was...well, not good for the ego, that's for sure. His heart picked up speed as a certain silver eyed man winked in his memory. Yes, he had experienced several types of romantic love.

The temperamental red-head was marrying Dean, now. After the war, Ginny had decided she was still in love with the other boy. A short tightening of his chest was the only reaction he felt now. Then, it had been despair and sorrow, ashamed he hadn't given her enough, angered she would leave him like that, during that time. _I don't blame her now_, he reassured himself. Just last month he'd gone to the wedding, happily wishing the two a long, loving marriage. Of course, the smile he'd given to all his old friends had felt like cake- Thick and frosted on. He had wandered around the entire white themed patio, wondering if anyone had noticed.

No one had. Sure, there were worried looks, careful glances shot his way. But what a look said, their mouths did not, and he needed to _hear_ them be said. As he left the wedding, he realized his worse fears were confirmed. Harry Potter, poster boy for the light, killer of the dark lord, only survivor of the killing curse, was just that. A poster boy, to be loved when needed; to be thrown away when his purpose was served. He briefly wondered if Snape, no longer the enemy, had ever felt like this. Then he shook his wildly out of control black hair. No one, he was sure, had ever felt like this. This feeling was…wrong, heavy and dark, to say the least. He would only wish it on Voldemort. _Although this was probably what drew him crazy. I'd say 'poor bastard' but it wouldn't be true._ His reflection agreed with the thought, a fierce light entertaining his green eyes with a few moments of passion. Then they dulled and Harry turned to his wand.

…_Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,_

_When you come close to sellin' out, reconsider…_

Briefly, he considered the plea of the words. He wasn't bitter, not really. If he supposed so, this would be what Hermione called a sign. He stopped believing in that a long time ago, around the time he'd constantly asked for them in the way of his friends. Not one letter had passed through the creaky window of Dudley's old room. Maybe if he had talked to someone, if someone had come to him, even for just a short amount of time…But ifs weren't going to change anything now. Just moments before, he'd sent out three letters, all of them saying the same thing:

_**Dear friend,**_

_**I once heard someone tell another, "Sometimes people run away to see if anyone cares enough to follow."**_

_**At the time, I had no reason to remember it, had no reason to wonder on the words. It had never really occurred to me, running away. Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had, huh?**_

_**I suppose you wonder why I'm writing to you. I'm kind of wondering too. I really can't see the reason, but perhaps some other force guides my thoughts tonight.**_

_**It's been nearly a year since Voldemort's (stop flinching) has passed. And in that year, I have come to realize many things about myself, and the world. In the above mentioned, I said I had no reason to remember those softly spoken words. Now, I know that to be untrue.**_

_**Indeed, I am the person who ran away.**_

_**But no one dared to follow.**_

_**And I see what I have missed all these years. Someone, anyone to follow me, care enough to stop me, love me enough to talk me out of it.**_

_**And I see that it is none of you. So that I no longer bother you, I have decided.**_

_**It is time for me to run again. And none of you may follow.**_

_**Harry **_

He had every word memorized. Even to Harry it sounded like a cowards letter. But how much was he expected to take, to live with, before even _his_ spirit was broken? The spirit would only bear enough to go on.

The three people, Hermione, Ron, and Draco, would receive the letters in a few moments time. He briefly wondered why he sent one to Draco. Though the two were no longer enemies, hell, they were closer than friends; he felt something for the snarky Slytherin. He could recall times when the two would sit and have conversations about any and everything. Sometimes, he'd look up and see a type of warmth in those shining silver eyes, and he'd pretend not to notice, so no one would be hurt.

Drawing his breath, he grasped his wand, another fairy tale ending awaiting him in the wings.

…_Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance_

_And when you get the choice to sit it out, or dance…_

He climbed into the still flowing water of the tub, clothes and all, and opened flushed cheeks to recite the words he now knew by heart.

"**Ego curro absentis quod eram nunquam secuutus , Sic permissum mihi currit qua nullus can insisto." **

_**I ran away but no one followed, so let me run where none can follow.**_

A soothing black light slid out of the wand, pointed at his body. The mist wrapped around his head, his body, and filled his eyes. Harry retained enough clarity to realize that someone was beating at the door, screaming in fear. He smiled hazily, _he knew that voice, and all was well because he was here_, and allowed his eyes to droop.

The door crashed open a moment later, a moment too late, and a panicked, tall blonde man stood in the doorway. He ran into the bathroom and yanked the slender young man out of the tub. Draco Malfoy, certain that his worse fears were about to become a new, insane reality, drew out his wand and recited every healing spell he knew. The panic set in deep when no reaction was found. Harry, his enemy, his crush, his _love_, wasn't coming back.

Draco's heart stopped, and then beat thrice was fast as before. He cleared the lazy black cloud away from Harry, aware that even as he did so, the man's body was growing colder, the water dripping onto his silk robes. Draco tipped his head forward and screamed, raged into the nest of silky hair. Harry was leaving him, and he had taken Draco's spirit with him. Tears fell from closed eyes, streaming and soaking the already drenched hair. He pulled the body- Harry- closer; desperate to prove it was just a horrible dream, that at any moment, Harry would pull another stunt, another incredibly lucky stunt of survival and smile.

He had known something was wrong the minute he opened that letter. Harry, who'd always come over when he wanted to talk, had never felt the need to send a letter, when Draco was at his beck and call. Draco had been suspicious, but it was the opening line that froze him, turned his blood to ice, cold and slow. He remembered that moment that Harry had written.

_Flashback_

_Draco glanced up again at his favorite person, smiling and happy to have Harry in his company again. Lately, it seemed that the boy- man, he corrected himself- was becoming more and more withdrawn. Now, even in company, he held an open book of Advanced Latin Spells in his lap, though his curious eyes were staring outside. A pale hand touched his shoulder, drawing Harry's attention._

"_What's wrong?" Draco had asked softly._

_Harry had stared at him, seemingly considering a tough question. Then he closed the book and turned fully to Draco. The blond man basked in the attention. In silence Harry stared at him, then asked his own question. "Why," he said with such a serious face, "Do people run away, Draco?"_

_Pale brows furrowed at the question. "Because they want to escape their problems," He had answered, thinking that Harry was speaking of another matter entirely._

_Harry shook his head and Draco was captivated by the light playing in his hair before becoming aware that Harry was speaking again. _

"_People run away to see if anyone cares enough to follow." Then he'd returned to his book. Draco, even then, had suspected that Harry was upset, but didn't push his friend. Harry would just leave if he pressed too hard. And he didn't want that._

_Not now._

_Flashback end_

Now, cradling his loves head, heart and soul tearing in two, Draco wished he had pushed, had made Harry talk more. But now, like all the other times, was too late. It was always too late.

…_I hope you dance…I hope you dance_

_I hope you dance…I hope you dance_

_(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,_

_Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone)_

_I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,_

_Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens._

Draco lifted his head, still shamelessly crying, as he recognized the song. It was Harry's favorite. As pounding footsteps sounded throughout the house, he mouthed the words, still crying, unknowing that just minutes before, Harry had done the same.

…_Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance_

_And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance…_

Ron and Hermione exploded into the already wrecked bathroom and knew immediately they had been too late. Draco looked up at them, eyes red, mouth open and still cradling Harry.

Hermione choked and buried her head in Ron's shirt. She screamed wordlessly, guiltily, for the world to hear. Ron felt his mind slip into denial, a deep dark corner already reaching up to swallow his sanity completely. He stared at the body, unable to think of it as harry. Harry would never do something like _this_. He was too strong, his life too bright, his magic too powerful…

And as he thought that Ron knew, without any doubt, it was his friend on that floor, covered in tears. Harry's magic had always been a pressure in the room. Here, in this room, the only pressure was on his heart.

Hermione continued to bawl into his shirt. He hugged her tightly, until she had enough of herself to ask Draco, in a voice devoid of all emotions, "Where is he now?". She asked Draco, in not so many words, to reassure her that Harry was happy wherever he had left them for.

Before he could snap and attack the, in his mind, other guilty party, an image flashed in his mind. His beloved Harry, entered a field, a meadow of tall grass and loving sunshine. Laughter reached his ears and Harry was suddenly on a giant hill surrounded by others. Lilly, James, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred, and was that Snape scowling in the background?…All of the fallen gathered him in their opaque arms, and tears slid down Draco's cheeks once more, for he could feel the love, tangible as the wind, that Harry felt he had never had. It filled him like a breath, and he almost wished he were there too. They moved as one, and as the vision ended, tears of regret, sorrow, and understanding fell renewed from silver eyes.

He turned to the silently waiting two, both afraid of what he was going to say. Both were surprised and a little afraid when Draco smiled sadly and said,

…_Dance…I hope you dance_

_I hope you dance…I hope you dance_

_I hope you dance…_

**"He's dancing."**

…_I hope you dance…_


End file.
